We had been trapped for a while at the ceramics lab, watching the rain pelt the big plate glass windows near the ceiling, and then worrying a bit as large hail started bouncing against the glass-walled entrance to the building. The lightning was spectacular! No, we were not about to leave until there was some sort of lull, and yet we knew we were in a flood-prone area and needed to get back to our home on higher ground.
So, a mad dash to the car, and I had buckets of tools sitting on my lap, rather than putting them in the back hatch of the car, and off we go, negotiating brake-threatening insta-lakes and fallen branches. Another derecho? We hoped not…
But it did cross our minds what the last storm did, so we parked across the alley and ran in the back door of the house [cursing the overgrown fig tree, and then apologizing, for lo: it doth bear fruit and mightily so] as fast as we could.
When the branch hit, crashing down from a nearby tulip tree, across the driveway, exactly where the car would have been parked and right through where we had run only 2 minutes before, it shook the house so hard that the bathroom door creaked open, much to the delight of the cats.
[Why do I suddenly feel as if I’ve been reading Faulkner all day?]
I had been meaning to re-think what we had in that section of the garden, but this was not quite how I envisioned getting started. Not sure if the rosemary or baptisia will forgive me, and dangit the Passionflower had _just_ started blooming after two years apparent celibacy.